Watch me run away
by tempestuous-rayne
Summary: My take on the journey Jack takes from the end of Day 5 to 6 months later with the decision to run away.
1. Steven's

"You like to think you're a hero, but you're the biggest monster of all."

Of all of the things someone was ever brave enough to call him, monster held the most weight. He never felt more like the monster he always thought himself than now, watching from the safe distance hiding in the shade of the trees. He was right, no matter how often the late Welshman tried to convince him the comment was in no means true, that it was said in the midst of his anger and grief and therefore was to be taken with a grain of salt. It didn't matter because at this moment, watching the fairly large gathering surrounding the shortened steel vault was proof enough. He was indeed a monster.

Since that day, that twenty-four hour period from hell, he questioned his actions. Was there another option? He was almost certain if Ianto were still... he would have found some other way. Ianto Jones had never let him down. Even when the revelation of the cyberman brought forth an anger that terrified even himself, he wasn't let down. Was there another option? Did he really lose his humanity in the Thames house that he used his own vengeful rage and guilt to blind him, to sacrifice the last good thing in his life. Even in hindsight, he didn't see a way out. One child or millions. Once again he made a decision that cost him to save the world, only that time it was the ultimate price.

He stayed back, watching as the brunette with familiar striking blue eyes drew comfort from a sandy-blonde man for all intents and purposes, she strongly opposed being in the same room if she could help it. She needed to lean on someone she could never rely on because it was all she had left. It broke his heart. In one fell swoop he lost his grandson and his daughter and he couldn't allow himself to properly mourn. He didn't deserve to mourn but he couldn't prevent the blurring of his vision as he continued to observe.

One child or millions. That would be the last time he saved this forsaken planet, he told himself. He couldn't do it, not anymore. The cost was too great. There was always a price and he had nothing left to give, nothing left to sacrifice for the greater good, nothing more to lose. He felt there was no longer a purpose to saving this world again and again. He never believed these people weren't worth saving. He knew in what was left of his humanity that they were, he just didn't think he could be the one to do it. The last of his support system came crumbling down a mere week ago. He just did not have that strength anymore, not even an echo of the facade.

Rubbing his eyes dry, he checked his watch. With a heavy sigh he turned on his heel and slowly headed in the direction of his next destination with the same sense of reluctance that he felt coming here to say goodbye to Steven Carter.


	2. Ianto's

"In a thousand's years' time, you won't remember me."

Those were his last words. His life was rapidly slipping away and he attempted to be logical. He wasn't sure how the young man had meant them, whether he doubted his importance or just couldn't believe it possible for a man to remember a person for a millennium but it was so Ianto. Even in... the end, he tried to keep his dignity and apply reason. It pained him to think he couldn't keep his promise. A thousand years was a very long time but somehow he would do it, he had to, he owed it to that man, the man that subtly forced his way in and carved away as far as he could get. He laughed without humour at the thought. That stubborn Welshman dug deeper than he allowed anyone else in his extended life and left him with a deep chasm. The ironic part was that being him, lead Ianto to believe he only scratched the surface. Truth was, as much as he fought it tooth and nail, Ianto was one of few who got that much. For all of his existence, he kept most from getting close enough to even begin to glimpse the surface. Truth was, he didn't even know what was beyond that point.

He quietly approached the back of the smaller group of mourners, keeping a fair distance. There wasn't a spot to hide and the bright open cemetery contrasted the sombre atmosphere that seemed almost tangible, hitting him square in the chest. The force choked him. It was just cruel having both of these on the same day. He felt the cosmic joke the day was appearing to be. The stoic grace he wanted to present to the world since leaving the shit-hole of a hotel he woke up in vanished in sight of the recognisable people lost in their own thoughts, people he had only seen in photographs in tearful silence, a welsh priest speaking a prayer and a grey box to with a picture of the man that was too young to be taken so soon.

Gwen Cooper was awkwardly searching the grounds, most likely for him as her husband kept a shaking hand clamped to her knee. Martha Smith-Jones was clinging to a man who could never know the wonder to which they were saying goodbye. The police-constable friend of Gwen's was sitting with her, Andrew Davis he recalled. Then there was Rhiannon Jones, clinging to her tissue like it was the only thing keeping her afloat as her husband kept a strong arm around her shoulders. There were a few others that he couldn't recognise. The scene was inadequate. There was a whole planet of people oblivious to the heroics of another person who died trying to save their miserable species.

It was Gwen who spotted him first as the group began to disperse. He ignored her red-eyed and running mascara looks of sympathy. He didn't know how much more he could take of her compassion; it was still hard to look at her. He sighed as he felt the hesitant hand of Martha run along his right arm. Mickey briefly gave his left shoulder a squeeze, offering an awkward sort of comfort. It was confusing really. At all the same time, these people gave him a small sense of reassurance he needed and the urge to just shout at them to let him be.

He shrugged off all the gentle touches and walked toward the grey box. He laid his hand on the smooth metallic surface. He wasn't sure if the... if Ianto was actually in there. He had told Gwen and Martha to deal with it, telling them to use their judgment if they should follow Torchwood protocol and keep Ianto somewhere until the Hub could be rebuilt or allow him to be released to the family. His only request...order was that no government organisation, especially UNIT were allowed to retain Ianto and that he was to maintain his dignity with a suit. It really didn't matter, the box in front of him was symbolic to the fact the man was lost in the darkness. He thought he should probably cry more, he should be able to produce more than a few tears but there was nothing more than the dead weight of his body.

He became fixated on the box, the casket. The sound of the timid steps drew him back to the present. He could barely suppress his wince as the Welshwoman took his free hand in hers.

"You're late. Where were you?" She asked after a drawn out silence, her accent thick with emotion.

He flicked his gaze to look at her from the corners of his eyes. He knew she did not mean to be crass but how could she honestly chide him on being late. That was the last place he wanted to be. He was barely functioning as it was.

"Jack?" He tried to respond, tell her it was alright but his throat clinched.

She released a painful sigh. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course I am. I'm always alright." It sounded false even to his own ears but he managed to keep his face relaxed.

"Bollocks!"

"Gwen," he bit out quietly, warning her of the dangerous territory she was crossing.

"Jack, you show up late. Smelling ripe of whiskey. You act like you don't even care." He averted his eyes to a spot directly over her shoulder catching the abashed Rhys start over to come to the rescue. His head told him she was just acting out of grief and the need to make this day perfect, all things considered but it infuriated him and broke him all the same. He closed his eyes shut tightly to block out the remaining group of people with shocked looks displayed.

"Come on sweetheart. Leave Jack in peace. He doesn't need this right now." Jack mouthed the words 'thank you' as Gwen focused on the ground in shame. Rhys met his eyes. "I'm sorry. Ianto was a good bloke." At Jack's responding nod, he dragged his wife away.

Taking a deep sigh and a final look at the picture of the young Welshman, he ran his fingers along the sleek surface until they reached air and turned his back toward the honorary shrine of irises, walking away. In the safety of the church parking lot, away from the prying eyes of the priest, the insensitive caretakers waiting with shovels and the people whom he called family, he let the tears he'd been holding back slowly fall free.

"You must be boiling in that coat," Mickey stated from somewhere behind him. He schooled his features, wiping his eyes dry, he turned to face the young man who was taking off his own jacket, draping it over his arm. It was warm but his old coat became a security blanket of sorts and this new one was his life-line.

"Little price to pay for looking this dashing." he chuckled. It actually felt good even though he didn't feel it.

Martha gave him a knowing look that says that his light-hearted banter wasn't fooling her. He sighed and went with the honest answer. "He… he bought it for me."

The dark woman nodded in understanding then sent a look to her nervous husband. With a returned nod, Mickey patted the captain on his shoulder and turned away, walking to where Rhys was hugging Gwen at the grave site. He relished at their non-verbal communication. He couldn't begrudge her of her happiness even as he felt that prickle pain. He never met that Tom but Martha seemed happier since meeting Mickey. Her eyes twinkled albeit still not the level as before the Year-that-never-was, but that bit of sparkle was there again. With Mickey she had someone she could share the wonders of the universe as he could understand exactly what she meant as he his own to share. He had to admit when he got the news that she was seeing Mickey, it threw him a bit but he realised that it was inevitable. The Doctor's companions had a special bond.

He was broken out of his thoughts as Martha pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, laying his chin on top of her head. He felt safe enough to break down. The quiet sob began at full force.

"He told me he loved me." Why did he admit to that to her? That was private. Martha pulled back slightly. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "I'm... I"

"Even I could have told you that." She gave him a smile that was latent with sadness. He returned the smile. He always knew how the younger man felt but he chose to ignore it. "Jack, how are... you coping?"

"I'm..." Fine? His first instinct was to lie, deflect or anything but the I don't know because, he had no idea how he was feeling. It was too much but a fine would have thrown a red-flag to Martha. She knew him too well. He guessed it didn't matter. It was most likely obvious he wasn't trying, he wasn't doing anything. "I'm... not... doing so well. Steven's was today."

She gave him that look of pity. "Oh Jack, I'm sorry."

"Please, don't. I need...time."

"I could call Him."

"NO!" he growled. He immediately regretted his tone as she recoiled. He lowered his voice. "Sorry...Just don't. He's the last thing I need."

"Please, just let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Thank you." He pulled her back for a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek before releasing her. "Go on Minnie. Your man awaits." He gave a small smack on her bottom to encourage her to go ahead.

"Are you coming?" At his confused stare, she elaborated. "Ianto's family is having a wake."

"I...I don't know."

"Jack, you of all people should be there."

"I suppose you're right. He was my friend and employee." He breathed out looking away from Martha missing her head shake in annoyance and roll her eyes at the labels he supplied.


	3. Martha

He wasn't sure what made it more...awkward. It could have been the overall atmosphere or the fact that as soon as he walked in, a young, dumpy blonde woman kept a hawks eye on him the entire time. It may even have been the fact Gwen was unsubtly avoiding him at all cost, including knocking a small female child over in the process or maybe even the way Martha would every so often glance...no glare at him from across the room where she was quietly consoling the woman whom he knew to be Rhiannon Davies. Possibly it was uncomfortable to try to be inconspicuous in Ianto's sister's home, shrinking into the corner like the proverbial wall flower when so many people were drawn to the mysterious but attractive stranger that stuck out like a sore thumb. But mostly, he thought, it was because he felt so small, vulnerable, and guilty. The enormous, bone-crushing weight of guilt. It was his fault that young Welshman was...gone. It was his fault that same man's family was at a loss to reminisce of his later years and the friends who could, wasn't allowed to say much without much editing nor did they know the truth behind the man. If it were not for him, not one of these people would be mourning the eternal wonder and stranger that was Ianto Jones.

The compiled emotions of the day left him exhausted. He made himself come and now he wished he just stayed away. He slid himself further away into a hall. With a heavy sigh, he leaned heavily against the wall causing his head to make a sickening thud before sliding into the floor. Pulling the front of his coat closed, he huddled in on himself. He rested his elbows on his bent knees. It wasn't often the infamous captain felt this out of control and it scared him.

***

It wasn't long before Martha sought him out. She had been talking with Ianto's sister when she noticed Jack had gone missing. She panicked thinking he'd gone to drown himself in alcohol like he did once the shock and denial wore off. It didn't take long to find her friend sitting quietly in the floor of the hall with his head burried in his hands. The sound of her approach had the man sitting up wiping his face. He turned to her, giving her a wide cheeky grin that just didn't have the same feel. It didn't reach his vacant eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey back Minnie Mouse." His false casual broke her heart all over again.

"Oh Jack..."

"Martha," he warned.

She leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor beside him.

"The ironic part is the person I need is the same reason I need him." He started after a long silence followed by a slightly manic chuckle. "The hub is destroyed, SUV is totaled, Gwen is out of commission. Torchwood Cardiff is inoperable. There's no one left."

"There's you."

"They were better off without me. Ianto, Steven, Tosh and Owen and Suzie."

"...But think of all the people you've saved." She thought better than trying to persuade her friend he was wrong. He was too stubborn for his own good but she believed with all of her heart that at least 3 of those people were better because of him. Tosh found confidence and Owen found an outlet for his depression and Ianto, Ianto found love and purpose. They all found a family and support system no matter how hard it was at times and that was all because of that man known as Captain Jack Harkness.

"That doesn't balance the scale. There've been more lost or damaged, because of me." He sighed running his fingers through his hair. "Important people, people I... care about."

"You loved him." She didn't pose it as a question nor emphasis as to the him she was referring.

"I loved them all," he replied simply.

"Don't give me that."

"You know what I said?" She shook her head not needing him to elaborate on what they were talking about. "Don't. Don't? What did I even mean by that?" Martha felt the prickle of tears forming around her eyes. The warmth of the salty liquid contrasting against the cold tone coming from the man next to her. She couldn't stop the involuntary shiver. The man her sister witnessed, that managed to keep his cheeky grin, flirtation and sarcastic comments during a year of incomprehensible torture was falling apart in front of her and there was nothing she could do.

"You know what his last words were?" She shook her head again. "In a thousand's years time, you won't remember me. He just wanted some assurance that he was the least bit special and I couldn't even give him that. All he heard were my selfish pleas for him to not leave me... Martha, I can't do it again. This time it was different. Before I always had hope that the Doctor could fix me. Then I had Ianto and Torchwood to lose myself in but now...I just can't do it anymore."

"I understand," Martha choked out through her clenched throat. The truly sad part is she understood the words he was saying, she knew grief, tragedy, devastation but she didn't...couldn't truly understand how he felt. They both knew it, she just didn't know what else to say. What can you say to a man that's had to live an immortal life that's experienced the worst the universe has to throw at him and then some? The only one who could was the one that Jack still felt a sense of betrayal and really, the Doctor could only understand to a point. The Timelord had never been buried alive for over a millennia or starved to death just to see how long it would take. Of course, the alien had experienced his fair share of heartbreak and violence. They were both more lonely than anyone else in all of time and space but somehow she thought there was a big difference between the two.

"I miss him." With that, he leaned his head against her chest as she rubbed soothing circles into his back. She would deal with the stiff back and tear stained blouse on behalf of the sobbing man that was clinging to her top. If she could offer her friend any sense of comfort, the small price would be well worth it.


End file.
